


An Unexpected Wedding

by timetravelwithcamelotsdetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetravelwithcamelotsdetective/pseuds/timetravelwithcamelotsdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock proposes to Molly it was one of the best days of her life. But then he forgets about it, and she hears nothing of it for nearly a year when suddenly he vanishes and an invite appears on her doorstep. Cue the wedding bells.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Wedding

The day Sherlock proposed to Molly was the second best day of her life and definitely the most awkward. As much as she loved him, Molly always knew that Sherlock could not do romance but goodness how he had tried that day. He’d made her dinner (although she suspected that was with John’s help, Sherlock didn’t know how to feed himself let alone someone else), a candle lit table, the lights low, a piece of violin music he had written and recorded especially playing in the background, then he’d said  
“You know, Molly, how you have always been special to me, and you know, of course, how utterly useless I am at all this,” he waved his hands, supposedly gesturing to the meal and everything else around them, “So I hope you don’t mind if this isn’t too… romantic.” Then, before she could blink, he was down on one knee, a small blue box in his hand saying, “Will you marry me, Molly Hooper?”  
She was for a while speechless. He was still on one knee, his face getting more and more worried by the second, until she replied, “Do you really have to ask?” pulling him towards her and kissing him gently on the cheek, pretending not to feel his shaking hands.

And that had been the end of that really. It was as if the whole thing hadn’t actually happened, and they moved on with their lives, still living together, with Sherlock still working away as he always did, only now with Molly reminding him to eat and sleep and drink, things he had been forgetting more and more since John had moved to the suburbs after marrying Mary.

It was nearly a year after Sherlock had proposed, she’d lost track as one often does when with Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock had been away for a week on a case, vanishing in the middle of the night with just a note left on the kitchen table (she’d found it two days later due to the amount of stuff it was under) that said,

_Urgent business_   
_Didn’t want to wake you_   
_I’ll be back soon_   
_Sherlock_

And she hadn’t thought anything of it. When one morning a blue envelope fell through the letterbox addressed simply to ‘Molly Hooper’. She’d learned very early on to be wary of anything like this, dropped through their letterbox with no address, no stamp, nothing; though they were usually meant for Sherlock not her. Yet she checked it out anyway.

Down to the labs she took it, x-rayed it, took swabs, everything she could think of, but found… nothing. So she opened it.

_~~I wish to invite you to your own wedding~~ You are ~~cordially~~ invited to the wedding of Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes. Date: this Saturday. Venue: you shall see in due course. Don’t worry about anything, not even your dress, it’s all under control. Love Sherlock_

Was hand-written on soft blue paper. Molly squealed solidly for nearly 10 minutes before one of her colleagues entered the room to check on her and she decided she had to leave. She didn’t even mind the crossings out, it was nice to see Sherlock’s thoughts again.

Her dress ended up being delivered on Friday morning. Mrs Hudson was there and she tried it on with her help. It was, of course, the perfect fit – only Sherlock would know her measurements down to the exact centimetre. The dress was not traditional, but it was so her. A 50s inspired number that came down to her mid-calf, with cupped sleeves, and tucked away in a box underneath was a necklace that suited the dress perfectly. Mrs Hudson cried, Molly cried, it was wonderful.

Saturday dawned and Molly was woken by Mary who had appeared at her door to help her prepare. Mary kept everything about the day hidden, simply smiling cryptically whenever she asked any questions.

At 10 o’clock sharp, Mary hustled Molly out of 221b and into the car that was waiting for them outside.  The classic Bentley swept them away, out of the city centre and out into the beautiful Surrey countryside where they pulled up next to a gorgeous little church with a marquee popped up in the gardens. By this point Molly was almost in tears.

There were very few guests she noticed as the doors to the church swung open. A piece of music began to play, not the bridal march, it was one she hadn’t heard before. And as she glanced slightly left of the alter she saw Sherlock playing softly on his violin, a smile spreading across his face as she glided down the aisle.

She reached him, and he stopped playing, handing his violin to John (the only other person beside her who he trusted it with) and pulled her to him, embracing her in his arms.

“Sherlock…” she whispered, her voice breaking, “This is beautiful!”

“Well,” he said into her hair, kissing her temple, “You deserve it, marrying an idiot like me, you need some romance in your life.” And he pulled away, grinning at her like an idiot as he wiped the tears of happiness that had begun running down her cheeks away with his thumb.

The wedding service continued. Sherlock had opted not to say his own vows but did say he had something lined up for the reception instead, and Molly could live even without that, the whole day was worth more than anything. They sealed their marriage with a kiss, a sweet gentle touch she barely ever received but that made it all the more precious.

Confetti was thrown, photos were taken, and for the first time in forever Molly watched Sherlock become truly happy. He was laughing, he was talking to everyone and he was holding her like she would disappear from him at any moment.

They moved into the reception venue, a small marquee decorated with blue flowers and soft wooden furnishings. Sherlock had made sure they provided her with her favourite meal, a tomato soup starter, a Quorn lasagne (respecting as usual her vegan food choices) for main, and mint chocolate ice-cream for pudding. And then he rose, as the empty plates were taken away, to make a speech she would never forget,

“I know it isn’t supposed to be the place of the groom to make a speech here, but I think Molly deserves some explanation of what I have been up to this past week. A wedding like this doesn’t come around very easily and I am very grateful for the help of John and Mary who made the whole thing possible, doing the organising of the things I told them I wanted. And for that I say thank you.  
But this isn’t supposed to be about them, although somehow John always ends up stealing the spotlight. This is for you, Molly.  You have been the most amazing woman to me. You don’t mind that I don’t hold you all the time, that I don’t kiss you even when you need me to do that, you support me in my work no matter how mad it gets, and you pulled me out of the darkness in those days after I returned from the dead. You gave me hope that life could continue, and you protect me from my own stupidity. But most of all, Molly, I love you because you are you. Your button nose,  your laugh, your intelligence, your humour, everything. You are the most wonderful woman in existence and I am so lucky to deserve you. I promise, here in front of everyone, that I will care for you no matter what, and even if the criminals come at night again to drive me from our home, or the demons of the past come back to haunt me, I won’t let them. You are the centre of my world, and God help anyone who tried to take you from me. So, er, please, everyone, raise your glasses, to Molly Holmes: my rock, my star, and now, finally, my wife. I love you.” And he kissed her, passionately for the first (and quite possibly the last) time ever, and it was wonderful.

 _That_ was the best day of her life.


End file.
